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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990902">Sins of Wentworth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales'>TheCreatorOfTales</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wentworth (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>?? - Freeform, Demon AU, F/F, Freakytits - Freeform, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, No Fluff, Supernatural - Freeform, get dark towards the end, sad at the end, snarky demons, there's bridget/franky but not for long, this is not a happy fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:08:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Franky summons something to Wentworth to ask for help against Governor Ferguson.</p><p>What a pity that Franky was always on the losing side.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sins of Wentworth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a bit of an odd one but i needed it out of my head desperately. </p><p>It's an interesting take on it, for sure!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Intent.</p><p>Rebecca, the inmate in for some sort of poisoning was a self-proclaimed witch. Stirred her tea in specific directions, threw salt to banish bad vibes in her cell – that type of witch. And with all her witchy shit, she had told Frankie that everything to do with magic, and more importantly, summoning, was <em>intent. </em></p><p>The 27 year old had tried to be subtle, asking how to summon things and how it works. Turns out she wasn’t as subtle as she thought, because Rebecca spun around in the corridor and told her bluntly :</p><p>               <em>“I don’t give a shit what you’re summoning Frankie, but you make sure that you have protection, do not give them your goddamn name, you are polite and respectful and you close the fucking connection when you’re done. If you’re gonna do it anyway, I’m not spending time telling you the million and one reasons why an inexperienced person summoning something is a very bad idea. Stop asking me.”  </em></p><p>Nobody notices how Rebecca avoids Franky at all costs after that, or how she hoards salt packets from the cafeteria, placing a thin line across the doorway to her cell every night. They certainly don’t notice how she frantically prays to her deities for protection every night in her cell after going to bed. The woman didn’t think the Franky would try to summon anything when she first spoke to her about it, but the feeling of nervousness and anticipation grew until it became almost unbearable. The fact that Governor Ferguson seemed to be keeping an eye on her made it worse, but once Miss Bennett had asked and received the answer of ‘PMS’, the two women appeared appeased and focused back on Franky once more.</p><p>Two weeks passed, and Rebecca woke in the dead of night, a cold feeling of dread creeping through her, making the hair on the back of her neck and on her arms stand up. She knows instantly what’s woken her.</p><p>
  <em>So she’s done it. </em>
</p><p>Rebecca quickly checks that her salt line is intact. It isn’t much, but it will have to do. She then burrows under the covers, whispering frantic and terrified prayers the rest of the night until she falls into a restless sleep.</p><hr/><p>Franky had hoarded what she could to make the pentagram. She’d copied the diagram from the book, found salt to protect herself.</p><p>She sat after drawing on the floor, sitting cross legged next to it, and looked down at the book and took a deep breath in.</p><p>She spoke the words, once.</p><p>Then repeated them, with a stronger tone, trying to will into existence what she wanted.</p><p> She repeated the words four more times, each turn becoming stronger and more infused with her intent.</p><p>Her eyes are closed, her ears popping like they would on an airplane and the pressure in her stomach feels excruciating.</p><p>There’s no wind blowing, no big cracks of thunder, no screaming. Nothing like the movies.</p><p>She doesn’t open her eyes.</p><p>               “How rude. You summoned me, the least you could do is greet me politely.”</p><p>Franky’s eyes snap open, the lilting voice certainly not what she was expecting.</p><p>               “What do you want of me, mortal? Hurry up, I have places to be and things to do.”</p><p>Sat in the circle of the pentagram, mimicking Franky’s seating position sits…something.</p><p>Large, hooked horns sit on top of her head, so black that it sucks in any light surrounding them. The…demoness’s (Franky is assuming she’s a demon, judging by the horns on her head and the tail curled around her form sat on the floor, similar to how a cats tail would rest around it’s body.) hair is wild, curly and coiling through the air as if it were alive. When the being moves her head, the hair floats around, curling over and under other locks, apparently feeling quite relaxed. There’s a reddish tinge to her skin, like a glow that human women would try to get using highlighter on their cheekbones. Her hands are long, with curved black nails that look deadly in the dim light of the cell. The rest of her body, from what Franky can see is lithe, and strong but she will admit that the clothing the being wears confuses her. A black, tight turtleneck and black, high-waisted slacks, but her feet are bare. </p><p>               “Hm, black is far better than the hideous teal ensemble you have.” Black lips twist the words, and a sneer flashes across her face. Franky finds that she still can’t find her voice, despite prompting from the apparently fashion-conscious demoness sat in front of her. “Give me your name.” the being commands, looking her dead in the eyes.</p><p>Shakily, Franky jerks her head back and forth. She remembers Rebecca’s warning. The demoness eyes her, and smirks cruelly at her.</p><p>               “I don’t need your name to know everything about you, little Francesca.” She juts her chin forward as Franky looks at her, horrified. “How daddy didn’t love you enough to stay, but he stayed for your little sister and how you want to hate her but you can’t because its not her fault. But there’s still that little part of you that hates her all the same. How your little psychologist friend is more than a friend and how many lives you’ve ruined with your actions.”</p><p>Franky opens her mouth to retort but finds no words escape her mouth.              </p><p>The demoness tuts, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “No, no, I will tell you all that I know and you <em>will</em> listen.” She leans forward, lifting one leg to rest her chin on it whilst the other stays bent beneath her. “Since your arrival here you have ruined more lives than you ever did when you were free. And not all of it is to do with those substances you like to sell so much. Oh no. Naughty, naughty girl. You are far worse than your governor.” The tone is mocking, and the being sneers at her. She watches Franky’s eyes go wide and her eyebrows climb up her forehead. “Oh yes, I know all about the Governor, but more about her later. Why have you called me here, I am a busy being after all.” She points a sharp nail in Franky’s direction and she finds that she can speak again.</p><p>               “I need your help.”</p><p>               “Hm…interesting. Why should I help the likes of you?”   </p><p>               “Because it’s the right thing to do! She’s evil!”</p><p>The demoness threw her head back, hair tensing with the movement and then continuing to bob around her head, as if moved by a gentle breeze. “The right thing?!” She continued to howl with laughter as Franky became frustrated.</p><p>               “It is the right thing to do!” Franky gestured, forgetting Rebecca’s warnings of being polite and respectful. “She’s killing people off, I’m fucking sure of it! She’s making people miserable! I summoned you, and you do as I tell you to!”</p><p>The laughter cut off at the blatant disrespect spewed from Franky’s mouth. The demoness had been willing to interact with the idiot mortal whilst she was entertaining but wasn’t willing to put up with it if it was accompanied by such disrespect.</p><p>               “Little girl, I would watch your tongue, lest it be taken from you in restitution. There are many who would not offer you such a warning.”</p><p>Franky’s mouth snaps shut.</p><p>               “So you want her gone, I see?” Franky nods. “What will you offer in return?”</p><p>               “I’d be willing to give you my soul.” Franky had thought long and hard for two weeks over what she would offer whatever it was she summoned. She was willing to give her soul to make sure that Ferguson stopped her tyranny over Wentworth.</p><p>More laughter flows from the being in the pentagram. What Franky doesn’t see is that the demoness’s tail has been hard at work, hidden behind her back, wiping away parts of the pentagram.</p><p>               “Your soul is <em>rotten</em>, Francesca Doyle and it is worth nothing to <em>me.</em>” She hisses, making Franky flinch back as her face, with its bared and very sharp teeth, come very close to the edge of the markings on the floor. Franky feels relieved when she stops advancing towards her, but then terror creeps up her spine at the demoness’s words.</p><p>
  <em>Rotten. Worth nothing.</em>
</p><p>               “Besides, why would I work against my own creation?”</p><p>Franky freezes, not comprehending the words.</p><p>The demoness smoothly stands, the markings on the floor had been wiped away enough to free herself from the pitiful excuse of a cage that the mortal had created. Franky skitters back on her hands, pushing back against the bed in her attempt to get away from her.</p><p>               “Shall I call them to me?” She steps closer, one bare foot leaving a black mark on the tile floor. Franky can feel the heat in the mark from her spot on the floor. “Shall I introduce you to my creations of sin?” The whisper reverberates around the cell, making it seem as if the words have come from seven mouths instead of just one. Franky claps her hands over her ears, shaking. The demoness’s hair is moving jerkily now, as her eyes turn black, and she snarls in a language Franky has no hope of comprehending, and raises clawed hands up to the ceiling, bringing them down slowly in a wide circle as the growling and snarling gets louder, and Franky cowers back into the corner.</p><p>Whisps of smoke, black and hazy white drift under the cell door and through the vent in the ceiling, congealing until it filled the room and Franky can barely see the demoness in front of her. From the smoke emerges a tall figure. The smoke clears from the feet first, displaying black high heels and pale feet and then shows black tight fitting trousers, and eventually a green tucked in blouse, with arms crossed against a very obviously female form.  To Franky’s horror, the face revealed is that of Joan Ferguson, who’s hair is freely floating around her head like the demoness’s, not in the severe bun she usually favours. She sneers at the curled figure in the corner, before turning a small smirk to the demoness who greets her with a kiss to the forehead.</p><p>               “You called?” The sardonic tone is one Franky knows all too well, but the smirk pulling up one side of her face and exposing a very sharp canine, is not.</p><p>               “What is a simple summoning between a mother and her child?” the demoness grins, flashing equally sharp incisors. Joan’s eyes flick over Franky’s form and then returns to the other supernatural being in the cell.</p><p>               “Lust is on her way, she was with me but needed to finish up with something.” Joan shrugs, placing one hand on her hip.</p><p>The demoness turns to Franky, who is still pushed back against the wall and gestures to the Governor of Wentworth with a flourish. “Ah, Lust. She’s always so busy, that one. Francesca, meet my Wrath and my Pride, all in one convenient package.”</p><p>Franky blinks.</p><p>               “She’s not exactly bright, is she?” The demoness says, looking over at the Governor who simply shakes her head with a scoff.</p><p>               “No, I’ve not seen anything of note in her head.”</p><p>               “She summoned me here. Locked me in a talisman cage and was then very surprised that I managed to get out of it.” The demoness turns back to Franky, who is still quivering in the corner. A tendril of hair rushes out and caresses Franky’s cheek. “Looks like someone didn’t do their homework on protection magic.” The tendril of hair mockingly pats her cheek and returns to her mistress, floating around in the air as it had done previously.</p><p>               “And you didn’t listen to dear little Rebecca.” Ferguson leans back against the desk, crossing her ankles and her arms. “How unfortunate.”</p><p>Franky is so busy glancing between the two beings in her cell that she doesn’t notice the black smoke curling its way up Joan Ferguson’s leg, like a caress as it reached her thigh.</p><p>Joan notices though. Using her hand, she draws the smoke up to her face, whispering to it in a sultry tone as it winds its way around her fingers. “Do not tease when you aren’t here to finish what you started, darling.”</p><p>Franky finds herself terrified, frozen and a little turned on at Joan’s voice.</p><p>The smoke continues to fill the room, and when it clears, Vera Bennett is sat on the bed, legs crossed, in a very silky royal blue nighty and her hair wild, also floating about her head. Franky notices the red toenails.</p><p>               “Ah, darling. About time.” Joan quips from her place leaning against the desk, enjoying the show Vera would give as the personification of Lust and Envy.</p><p>               “Well I had to finish up the dream I’d given to Chang, you know how I hate to leave things half-finished.”</p><p>
  <em>Dream? What dream? A dream to Kim?</em>
</p><p>“Oh yes, Franky. Kimmie dreams of me very often.” The words flow from the mouth of Vera Bennett as smoothly as water skims over stones. The husky voice makes it worse. “She used to think of me when she was with you, too.”</p><p>Franky blinks. She didn’t know what Vera Bennett this thing was, but it wasn’t the Vera Bennett that she’d known. Joan sees her train of thought and smirks cruelly at her.</p><p>               “It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, you know? I’m in everyone’s dreams at some point in their time here. Easiest job I’ve ever been given.”</p><p>Vera keeps Franky’s attention on her, with her crooning voice, and heavily lidded eyes. The wild, curly hair floated around her head, occasionally caressing her cheek. So the inmate on the floor didn’t notice the sluggish haze creeping under the doorway, building behind the demoness who is watching with interest at the conversation between Franky and the figure on the bed.</p><p>               “Be honest, Franky. You’ve dreamt of me too…together with your little Bridget…” The husky whisper is there again. Vera has moved so that she’s on all fours, facing Franky and leaning over the bed, giving her a full view down the front of the nightie. Franky’s mouth fills with saliva and she swallows nervously, eyes flicking down to the cleavage on display and then back to Vera’s face with its seductive smirk and pointed gaze.</p><p>The haze continues to build, in the same way as the previous two.</p><p>Franky doesn’t notice how it slowly dissipates, revealing a familiar blonde who immediately leans against the wall.</p><p>               “Well, well, well, Franky. Who would’ve guessed that it would be you?”</p><p>Franky’s head snaps over to the blonde, who is leaning there in well fitting jeans and a white blouse.</p><p>The sins known as Greed and Gluttony are combined in the form of Linda Miles, who croons at her in a different sort of way to Vera. Joan has lightly smacked Vera’s behind once Franky’s attention was elsewhere, and the woman returns back to her previous position, however this time she is much closer to Joan, and has her hand wrapped around her leg. Locks of curly hair intertwine with the black tresses of Joan, who doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it.</p><p>She acts like it is a daily occurrence.</p><p>               “We’ve always been here Francesca.” The demoness looks proud of her creations. Together, they’ve created absolute chaos within the walls of Wentworth. They’d done very well.</p><p>               “Maybe I’ll show Bridget what she’s missing out on.” Vera husky suggestion causes her head to swing back to the bed, where Vera is now lounging in Joan’s lap, the woman rubbing her hand on her thigh as one of her feet swings back and forth.</p><p>               “Maybe we could arrange things with all three of us so that she ends up in cell next to yours, Franky.” Linda’s gaze is sharp, enjoying the horrified look on the inmate’s face.</p><p>Franky can’t find her voice. She’s terrified onto her spot on the floor, back pressed against the wall as her gaze flicks between the four beings in her cell.</p><p>She’d never regretted her impulsive streak until now.</p><p>               “Now, now my girls. We can’t break her mind, she still has to function within the walls here.” The demoness croons, stroking a horn on her head. “She is so very good at drawing out the essences we need of people. Truly, you work hard without knowing, Francesca.” Husky and crooning, Franky is frozen.</p><p>               “I will find something to collect from you, little Doyle, as payment for calling me on this night.” The demoness warns, voice filling the cell and all Franky can see is the smirks of the three women that she will have to see day after day, and not be able to scream to the rafters about what they truly are without being carted off to the mental hospital.</p><p>               “You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being.”</p><p>With a loud screech like that of a car scrapping along a divider on the highway, and a flash, her cell is empty again.</p><p>She thinks that she’s made it all up.</p><p>Then she sees the black footprint on the tiled floor, and the smeared markings on the floor.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>               <em>You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being.</em></p><p>Franky doesn’t move from the floor until the lights come on at 8am as they do every morning, and when she goes to breakfast, feet dragging on the floor, she can’t make eye contact with Kim without her stomach rolling.</p><p>               <em>You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being. </em></p><p>She flinches away from people, especially Bridget, worrying that she could taint her love with what happened, that night in her cell.</p><p>And Bridget, lovely and beautiful Bridget tries her best. Tries to understand and be patient but Franky will never tell her. And eventually, Bridget stops trying.</p><p>And then stops trying with Franky altogether and walks away, not wanting to hurt herself with trying anymore.</p><p>
  <em>               You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being.</em>
</p><p>One by one, everyone does the same. Booms, stuck in Wentworth while she walks away. All the people she called friends fall away.</p><p>Her little sister sees her once and then turns away and doesn’t want to know her.</p><p>She sees Bridget across the street once. She meets Franky’s eye and ducks into her car quickly and drives away.</p><p>               <em>You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being.</em></p><p>Franky stands, staring out of her bedroom window when it hits her.</p><p>The demoness really did collect. And she didn’t realise until she knew with everything in her what that demoness took.</p><p>She let Franky keep her soul. And her life.</p><p>But she took everything else that she ever had that was worth anything to her.</p><p>               <em>You won’t know what I will collect until I take it. But then you will know. With every fibre of your being.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and Comments are lovely as always! &lt;3 </p><p>I've got chapters for the Governor's Wife and Governor Ferguson Said Knock You Out on the way hopefully by the end of the week!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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